Orchestra
by NitroStation
Summary: They say that music can bring powerful emotions out in anyone...or memories for that matter. Soundwave enjoys taking what his victims love and twisting it into their worst memory. Human AU, Elita One/Soundwave
1. Incarcenate

_"Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything. "_

_-Plato_

_"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it."_

_-Mark Twain_

_xx_

_**'Firefly, what are you doing you silly billy, starting another story with all your incomplete ones still to do?'**_

_Because I've had this idea sitting in the proverbial mental closet for a while now, and like all lost objects it had to be pulled out of the darkness and into the cruel light at some point. Or just thrown in the trash. Hopefully I made the right decision on going with the former option. Mostly I'm 'testing the waters' for a fic like this, and seeing what people think of the first establishing chapter. 'Orchestra' will centre on the always-fun subject of Stockholm Syndrome, and my own conjured variety of psychological torture. More on that in later chapters, which will come sporadically due to my hectic writing schedule (or lack thereof...)_

_Now for the common questions, first off: why human-verse? Well, while browsing deviantArt I discovered an amazing artist by the name of Lecidre. Most of her TF fanart is humanised, and I love how she interprets each character. You could say it's given me a soft spot for 'human-formers'. Also, I think it'll be easier to imagine the Transformers as humans throughout this for other reasons that I'll keep hidden for now._

_And the pairing? One thing I enjoy reading about is unlikely couples- or rather, couples that no-one has ever before explored or thought about in depth. Not crack-pairings, but serious ones that could genuinely happen in canon should the right circumstances come about. In this case, I'm going to try my hand at Soundwave and Elita One. Soundwave is always a tricky bot to work with, especially when you're smashing him together in a pairing, it's not a simple matter of making him hardly or never talk; Soundwave is mysterious and vague by nature and it's up to the fans to fill in the gaps with their own interpretations, and as such every writer's version of Soundwave is bound to be different. A hard character to pull off, but I've done my best to capture his stoic personality here. As for Elita, it seems the only options open to her are Megatron and- of course- Optimus. That's all fine and dandy for people who write those, but there's only so many times you can pound out a saucy scene between the two to get your rocks off. This fic is more about characterisation, a look at how Elita might be outside of her fan established two-mech comfort zone. _

_Anyway, this note has gone on far too long. Without further ado..._

_xx_

Flawless victory. It was a rare event, in war more so than anywhere else. It was something all commanders would strive for every day, on every mission. No matter how slim the chances of accomplishing such a feat, it was a firm belief that every soldier would experience the privileged, so sought feeling of peaceful satisfaction that followed a clean conquest.

Some went their whole existence having never achieved that emotional state. Those poor souls were not Megatron.

The Decepticon leader never left his army idle. Even as he sat in the comfort of his Kaon fortress, countless units and drones died and fought at all corners of the planet. He paid no mind to those abstractions, small triumphs and simple details. Everyday the victories were relayed from those battlegrounds, increasing ever more as the Decepticons gained the high ground. The novelty of knowing victory had worn off quickly on Megatron. Vague commands from himself to his army generals meant that he never had to waste more energy than necessary on the minor targets. He gave them direction, they did the hard marching. And so he focused all his attention on his inner circle; the officers and servants, bootlickers and ambitious cretins. They were expected to take initiative in their actions for the Decepticons, and it was in the rare sudden strokes of enterprise that Megatron allowed himself to feel the contentment that accompanied success.

As it happened, today was a good day for strokes.

And Megatron was slightly disappointed.

He enjoyed challenges, revelled in chasing prey with a spark of fire within them. Slaughter wasn't fun if there was no-one to protest the barbarity or bear furious witness. There was something almost admirable in seeing great masses clinging desperately onto life- an empty promise of sanctuary and peace so ready to give itself up for the most meaningless of causes- and watching all that light of purity die in their pleading eyes. Of course the Autobots thought life as a privilege bestowed to all existence by Primus, a precious asset.

Yet despite that horrendously flawed logic of theirs, even in the midst of war, the Autobots wandered freely as if they _wanted _to be shot. It was a paradox in itself, and a mind spent too long lingering on such a matter would fry within hours.

There would always be the odd Decepticon who allowed himself to be detained by Autobots for the masochistic joys of torture and pain. It seemed that perversions of the mind were a standard requirement for every Decepticon- even Megatron was intimate with strange desires. But the Autobots were held as the harbingers of unity and refuge, fleeting safety and trust, a spreading stain of blinding goodness on the Universal tapestry.

And for all that those 'Bots had revered their holy leaders, they guarded them as well as they did their dead. Not a positive sign, considering how many corpses had been post-mortem desecrated by Megatron's hand. At least Optimus Prime, for all his insufferable naivete, took precautions with his personal safety; barricading himself within Iacon City, no windows or potential sniper targets, a permanent guard on continual rotation and energon hoarding for when the supply lines were hit. But his dear spark-bonded had no such luxuries. She strutted herself around the cities like she owned them. She probably did, simple trivial assets in her long list of unearned possessions. No sentries, not even weapons. She was the avatar of hope and compassion for the neutral masses of Cybertron, supposed proof that _true love_ can thrive even through wars. Such an allegedly high power should have protected her enough. Obviously that power didn't extend to preventing a simple snatch off of the street. Clean and cut, no witness or worry. But _dear Primus, _did she have a mouth on her. First it was a reel of curses and threats. Then it was screams and curses and threats. Now it was just primal screaming.

Megatron let his wandering gaze slide down his prisoner's shape, sweeping across the arcs and curves of her body. Her rose pink hair flew in waves as she thrashed against her bonds, rolling and rocking in desperation. She paused her tirade of cries to glare at Megatron, a stare so intense it would have reduced anyone else faced with it to a shaking wreck. The Decepticon leader simply made a condescending sound and promptly went back to ignoring her. Layers of duct tape only barely muffled her, so in the end Megatron didn't bother. Let her scream. Let her call out for some false hope, let her believe that her hero Optimus will save her, the maiden of misfortune damsel in distress. And let her sing her sorrows when the truth finally smothers her. A sugar-sweet symphony to the ears.

Oh, how Megatron would have delighted in witnessing such a transformation, even causing it himself. He knew he was not the one for the job though. She was too precious a prize to be broken so quickly by his twisted hands. No, there was only one Decepticon worthy of breaking a symbol of love.

"Rumble, Frenzy," Megatron called through the east door. Two young and mischievous faces poked out from behind the frame. "Prepare our guest for travel. You shall be escorting her to her _new _home." As the two slinked out into the vast room, overlooking the rolling expanse of Kaon and beyond to the glimmering structure of Iacon City far in the distance, with dots of stars stabbing through the endless black of the sky above, they hauled Elita up and carelessly tore her various restraints away. At their touch, her struggle had lost its previous ferocity, but she still pulled against the ties bonding her hands together as her ankles were freed and she was marched by her guardians towards the exit. Whether to minimise the possibility of further damage, or the first sign of submission. Either way, Megatron couldn't help but smirk.

xx

A sudden series of beeps tearing through the usual silence roused Soundwave from his casual meditation. He glanced up from his computer terminal, the faint glowing inset lines of purple offering some illumination in the vast room that Soundwave occupied. Ceilings high enough to stay in darkness and far corners draped in perpetual shadow, though the black above shifted from time to time with the fleeting flight of Laserbeak and Ratbat. Ravage was out of sight, curled up in the Communications Officer's personal bedroom.

The sound had originated internally, from the angular earpiece embedded into Soundwave's left ear. It was a useful piece of equipment, a pre-emptive device that alerted him to incoming transmissions seconds before they reached his communication systems, as well as amplifying his own hearing range. Yet another marvel from the Decepticon scientists. Soundwave exhibited no surprise when a large screen flickered slightly before displaying Megatron's smirking visage.

"Prepare the cells and chamber, Soundwave. We are in possession of an Autobot prize that I'm sure you will enjoy_ breaking open_." The camera panned slightly right to show Rumble and Frenzy at the sides of a female, not much younger than Soundwave himself, head bowed and hair partly shielding her face. An Autobot symbol glared back on her shoulder, blasphemous and mocking. "Designation: Elita One," he relayed as the capture-cameras on his tinted glasses matched up the appearance with the image data stored in the Decepticon's retrieved portion of the Autobot database. If the Decepticons had Elita One, then they effectively had full control over Optimus Prime. They could order the delivery of Iacon City straight into their hands and Optimus would have complied if it meant having his Elita safe again. The fool.

"Understood, Lord Megatron," Soundwave said as he logged off the line just before Elita's head lifted and the bob of hair shifted slightly, revealing an upturned Iacon-pedigree nose turned toward him and those blue eyes locking onto his. He couldn't distract himself from the horror that would certainly be present in the Autobot's eyes. He'd have plenty of opportunities to see it anew when she arrived.

xx

The sound of a snicker and the thump of a body being shoved to the ground alerted Soundwave of Rumble and Frenzy's return. He'd prepared a basic holding cell for Elita, nothing special. She wouldn't be spending much time inside it anyway. A hallway down from the cells is where her true home would be, and where he had taken care in readying for its new resident.

He allowed himself a final look at his regular tools, cleaned and polished, gleaming in the artificial light. This time though, he'd prefer not to use them. The officer had an entirely different ordeal in store for the Autobot.

Soundwave tore himself away from the familiar and almost calming sight of his tools and made for the entrance of his haven. Intruders were never a problem here; the only ones who knew of its location were his minions and Megatron himself. As he approached, he could sense a smirking Rumble and Frenzy, with a crumpled shadow in between them on the floor. Rumble had his piston weapon positioned at the shadow, ready to grind the head into a pulpy stain on the concrete should the need arise. But even the hostile gesture couldn't hide the lingering, instinctive lust that glazed his eyes over. Frenzy hid his emotions more effectively, though he chanced glances at those alluring dark curves.

"Bagged ourselves a real prize, huh Frenzy?" Rumble chuckled, still bearing his cocky smirk. His sibling returned it, his furtive flash loitering over the trembling frame for longer than usual. "Maybe if we're real good, Soundwave'll let us _borrow _her for a while, heh?" The twins cackled at their shared depraved thoughts as their prisoner let out a strangled sob, trying to choke down the rising wave of tears.

"Hey, shut it, boss is com-" Frenzy started to warn, but was cut off by a furiously offended Rumble.

"Don't ya tell me to shut it, scrap brain!"

"Better a scrap brain than a slag face!" It didn't take long for the two to start throwing punches at one another, forgetting their charge as they locked in a common battle of flinging insults and fists. The young woman didn't seem to notice the change in atmosphere, even with such a sudden shift from foreboding to violent. Soundwave rounded the corner and remained as impassive as ever as he waited for his drones to finish their squabble. Twenty seconds in Frenzy finally noticed his gleaming eyes in the dark and immediately leapt off of Rumble, who pushed himself up and brushed the dirt off of his clothes.  
"Yeah, you _better _back off, ya fraggin' piece ah-" He was cut off at the sight of Soundwave's imposing form cutting through the shadows, scrambling backwards to stand in the standard uniform stance that Frenzy had already adopted.

"Uh, heya Soundwave," Frenzy began weakly, eyes darting to and fro nervously.

"We, uh, got the chick," Rumble said, pointing down to the still cowering female sprawled on the floor. "I mean, we just delivered her, Megatron's the one who got her- not in _that _way, I mean-" Again, Rumble was interrupted by the sudden jab of an elbow deep into his ribs. He yelped in combined surprise and pain, and responded with a backhand over Frenzy's head. Soundwave suppressed a rising sigh, resting his concealed eyes downwards on his scions. Their shared incompetence was only excelled by their loyalty, and Soundwave had to remind himself of that whenever he had fleeting thoughts of throwing them off the mountain that his home resided on, plummeting down the sheer sides to meet the Rust Sea. On that depressing image, he turned his attention to the other form laying discarded on the floor like a broken toy. Even in such prevailing darkness, the short waves of her hair still sustained that almost glowing shade of pink. That colour technically didn't exist in the visible spectrum, a blend of fiery red and neutral white. Add in blue, and she'd be a mirror image of her lover. The strands seemed more lifeless than it was portrayed in the Autobot propaganda. Perhaps it was just a reflection of her current mood.

"Quite a trophy, ain't she, Wave?" Frenzy smirked as he noticed the taller male gazing at the fallen prisoner, his quarrel with Frenzy over as soon as it had began. Soundwave barely glanced in his drone's direction in scarce acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the Autobot. Frenzy sneered in offence at such blatant dismissal, crossing his arms in juvenile defiance. Rumble appraised the shifting sides of the feminine form beneath him, grinning in obvious approval.

"Subject shall provide interesting interrogation," Soundwave stated in his trademark cold, monotone voice. It was as close to mechanical as one could get without the aid of a vocaliser. "Complete privacy required for duration of Elita One's imprisonment." Now both Rumble and Frenzy bared an angered look of protest.

"And just how long is that supposed to be?" Rumble asked incredulously, suddenly turning sour towards the object of his recent affection.

"Estimated time: Minimum of one week," Soundwave answered briskly as he waved an arm over Elita, his wrist-mounted scanner studying her vitals and showing them accordingly. Other than a few bruises and scratches, no external injuries. Her internals, however, told a different story. Elita's heart-rate was through the metaphorical roof and her core temperature was rising, despite the relative coldness of the open area. Soundwave chanced a graze of his hand across Elita's exposed arm, and even as she recoiled from his touch he could feel the beads of cold sweat that dotted her skin. If she had been transported here without rest or protection against the elements, still wearing those indulgent clothes of the wealthy that she had worn at the moment of her capture, then the onslaught of freezing temperature and a collapsing state of mind could render Elita useless. She would need time for her body to revert back to normal condition, but Soundwave was patient. With the waiting period, he could fully prepare his experiment for the Autobot. He ignored Rumble and Frenzy's background outcries as he organised his whirring thoughts back into neat piles of orders and plans. First order of business; getting Elita accommodated.

"Confine prisoner to designated holding cell," he commanded his still-sulking drones as they obediently hauled Elita up and unceremoniously dragged her to her new home. Laserbeak watched on from above with piercing eyes, Ratbat asleep and uncaring to the death sentence being carried out before him.


	2. Isolate

_Thank you to Naughtia for your review, and for the various favourites and follows that this received! As a reward, here's another progressive chapter for y'all._

_Side Notes: The reason why I called this 'Orchestra' shall be revealed per the next chapter, and it'll mostly be revolved around/inspired by songs. Also, the rating will most likely go up at some point._

xx

As Rumble and Frenzy descended into the deeper bowels of Soundwave's abode, Laserbeak flew down from the far rafters above and settled on his master's shoulder. The charcoal crested falcon pecked at Soundwave's cheek nervously, showing considerable apprehension towards the new guest.

"Caution understood," Soundwave replied to his pet's show of emotion. "But prisoner is no threat." Laserbeak only squawked sceptically as he flitted towards Soundwave's work area, perched on the desk next to the main computer.

"Megatron knows and approves of intentions," the officer reassured further as he moved towards the computer, looking up Elita One's file in the database. If he was going to successfully interrogate the Autobot, he'd need to do his research. Laserbeak watched him studying and noting down the important details with still present unease. He had witnessed all number of Autobot prisoners and Decepticon traitors pass through the walls of his home and been dragged into Soundwave's chambers, none of who had again emerged. But this female was unique among that statistic; in times of the most crippling defeat for the Autobots, she was the sole bringer of morale. Her relationship with Optimus Prime was so sugar-coated and inspiring to those ingenuous imbeciles that they would walk straight into a line of machine gun fire if they saw their fabled prince and princess at the end of the frontline. Skill wise, she was as useless as a sparkling in Decepticon eyes. But her influence and effect on soldier and civilian alike was astounding and dangerous. Soundwave would need to watch this one closely.

xx

"In ya' go, sweet cheeks," Frenzy piped as he shoved Elita into a dark cell room, the barred door locking in place when Rumble punched the button on the opposite wall. The concrete was mercilessly cold under the bare parts of her skin, and a draught skimmed across the rising goosebumps. Elita frantically scrambled backwards towards the wall of the cell, bringing her knees up to her chest defensively. The two drones laughed at her attempt to cover herself, suddenly self-conscious of her revealing attire. Well, it _was _always hot in Helix.

_Strolling down those famous high streets..._

_Pausing outside a window displaying a bounty of hand-crafted jewellery and Cybertron's rarest gems. _

_That one ring in the corner, a silver band inset with a beautiful pure cut sapphire. _

_She had hoped Optimus would choose it for her...when they bonded..._

The wistful tears came before Elita could stop them as the events preceding her capture washed over her. Optimus was far away, in secure sanctuary. He might not even know of her capture, her absence that evening would be dismissed as a minor occurrence and nothing to worry over. Primus knows how long it would take for concern to set in...

All because she wanted to avoid the crowds.

The small alleyway mazes set in between the collections of department stores and buildings weren't frequently populated, but even so there was no reason to outright fear them. Yet just as Elita was about to emerge into the open streets again, on the other side of the tangle of narrow tunnels, something clamped onto her waist. It pulled her back into the growing sunset shadows and smothered her screams before they could rise through her throat. Her kidnapper dragged her backwards further into the maze and pushed through a door into more darkness. At some point then, she had gone unconscious.

The evil shapes of Rumble and Frenzy faded into the further darkness of the corridor beyond, leading back to the main hall of her prison. Her head bowed and her tears dripped downwards, undeterred in her sorrow. The icy wind clawed at her skin and she could feel a barrage of sneezes coming on. Elita could only hope that Soundwave would be quick with her punishment.

xx

An obnoxious whistle drilling into Soundwave's earpiece heralded the twins return from their task. From the air that they carried themselves now, their previous mood of sullenness had worn off. Soundwave couldn't really blame them for it; Rumble and Frenzy were both immature by nature and inexperienced by circumstance. With the advent of the war, there could be no time reserved for even the most basic lessons. It was all battle method and tactics, no room for arts such as philosophy or professional reflection.

Being so ungracefully thrown out of their familiar home wouldn't make them feel any better about their inferiority. But surely they'd understand that Elita was a special case, one that would require utmost patience, planning and privacy to get anything worthwhile out of. To Rumble and Frenzy, the whole matter would consist of simply blackmailing Prime into accepting Decepticon demands. But Megatron's intentions were always vastly more complex than they first appeared to be. Even Soundwave himself didn't know the full extent of them. Of course he didn't question his leader, and he lived in his warranted ignorance blissfully.

"Yo, Wave, we got the broad banged up," Rumble relayed informally, leaning on one of Soundwave's desks much to Laserbeak's discomfort. "I'd get a blanket or something down to her, though. She looks likes she's gonna be an Eli-sicle pretty soon." Soundwave gave a small nod in acknowledgement, promptly returning to his work. As casually as they could, the two twins moved behind Soundwave's work area and turned their heads towards his computer display.

"You looking up her specs? How come? All we need to know is where the insta-kill spots are," Frenzy asked while miming a gun being shot at his head and chest. Rumble sniggered at the display while Soundwave conducted an answer that wouldn't require any further questions.

"Weaknesses are not purely physical."

Frenzy seemed more than dissatisfied with the reply, but didn't press his master further on the subject. He had never seen Soundwave angered or impatient, and he didn't want today to be a first.

"Megatron shall be expecting your return," Soundwave said after a long moment of silence only interrupted by the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. The statement was neutral enough to be heard as a dismissal, and the twins once again acquired their sulking attitude to being forced out, knowing they would not return for a while. The soldier barracks of Kaon were renowned in their unpleasantness- from the constant noise to the general oppressiveness laced in the very air. Rumble and Frenzy had already had the misfortune of spending a few days in the company of the Decepticon soldiers, and they weren't looking forward to being reacquainted with them.

"Bunch'a fraggers," Rumble muttered bitterly as he walked towards the heliport at the side of the building. "I still got that scar on my as-"

"Ugh, don't remind me, _I'm _the one who had to pick the metal out of it!" Frenzy complained, hauling himself into the cockpit and strapping himself in tightly.

"Well, ya' didn't do a good job of it."

xx

Alone at long last, Soundwave could safely turn his attention to the more dynamic form of Elita who was slowly freezing to death less than a hundred meters away. The cells were not equipped for long-term residence, no form of insulation or heating provided, though a makeshift bed had been installed for Elita's convenience. Soundwave himself preferred to keep his home chilled- the cold gnawing at him as he worked kept him alert. Still, he was clothed in the appropriate garments.

Even if he relented to pumping hot air throughout the abode, it would take a considerable amount of time to reach the depths of the cells. Every second was precious.

_'I'd get a blanket or something down to her...' _It would do for now.

Soundwave briskly marched to the upper level of the building; his bedroom. Sparsely furnished, chests and closets holding uniforms and a large bed against one wall, with a black feline resting on top of the covers. Soundwave had given in here on the matter of heating; it wouldn't do for a Decepticon officer to catch a cold every night. As he pulled a sheet from one of the chest drawers, the feline lifted his head towards the noise, one of the ears flicking at the sudden intrusion. Though even as Soundwave left the room he simply laid his head back down and slept through whatever suffering the Autobot would be enduring right beneath his paws.

xx

Footsteps echoing down the passageway brought Elita away from her wailing, a controlled and rhythmatic sound that increased in tempo as it came closer. She was already shivering uncontrollably, but the ominous beat sent a renewed chill down her spine.

_'Don't show weakness, stay strong, think of Optimus...'_

The repeated mantra in her head hardly helped as she saw a cast shadow spreading along the wall. Her captor came into sight; a lean tall male with sharp features and short dark, almost blue hair that spiked forwards. There was light stubble around his chin and mouth, which was set in a neutral line. Neither threatening nor comforting. What unsettled Elita even further was that his eyes were shielded by a pair of dark glasses, rimmed with a narrow bright blue line and connecting to a device in his ear. Elita had seen enough Decepticon battles to recognize Soundwave from any distance.

He neared Elita's cell, and even through the dark lenses she could feel his gaze stabbing through her, analysing her like a computer virus. She felt even more uncomfortable and reduced herself to a ball on the floor, shuddering at the currents of freezing air battering against her.

The cold Communications Officer passively tossed something through the bars of Elita's prison, a bundle of white fabric. Tentatively she reached out and grabbed it, a soft and soothing, so unlike the continuous stare drilling into her as she wrapped the sheet around her. The shivers subsided and warmth took their place.

"Until condition is stabilized, Autobot will remain here." To Elita's ears, Soundwave's voice was both measured and rough, almost like a growl. A voice that wasn't used often, and when it was, the speaker wasn't happy about using it. He thought carefully about his words, but he still disliked having to say them.

"If you think you're going to get anything out of me, forget it," Elita spat out weakly when Soundwave turned his back on her. He glanced back over his shoulder at her remark. "I'd sooner become a Quintesson slave than betray the Autobots." Her words went unheeded as Soundwave walked towards the way he came in. Though, it was hard to tell in the dim light, Elita could have sworn that she'd seen the ghost of a smirk before he left.


	3. Illusion

_This chapter took a bit longer than usual to type, and for that I apologise. Also, I wasn't able to fit the full song-themed explanation into this chapter, though I _do _have Megatron mention it. Anyway, now we can see more of the Autobots and what they're planning do to about Elita One's capture, as well as introducing everyone's favourite Seeker :)_

_xx_

The expected call came late that evening, and Megatron had to wipe the smug smile off before he faced the comm screen. Broad shoulders draping a red military jacket adorned with badges and medals and a face etched with barely controlled fury filled the display.

"Megatron, I'm sure you know why I am transmitting to you," Optimus Prime began, his deep and pronounced voice a direct contradiction of his current show of emotions.

"What was your first clue, Prime?" Megatron asked back, letting a smirk slip through his cordial mask. "The sudden lack of communication guards or your beloved's eventually noted absence?" Prime's façade of calm faltered at his enemy's words, but regained its composure a split second later.

"Do not think the Autobots so disorganised as your _own _troops," Optimus retorted coldly, the remark wiping the smug look off of Megatron's face. Aggression and severity took its place. "Would I be correct in treating this as a hostage situation?"

"Hm, you might," Megatron said cryptically. "That depends on what you are planning to exchange for Elita's safety."

"We will not negotiate with you, Megatron," Optimus emitted with finality. "Not even in a situation such as this."

"Such a shame," Megatron answered with mock hurt edging his voice. "Well, I'm sure _Soundwave _will find a use for her-"

"You gave her to Soundwave?" Optimus interrupted with eyes wide in disbelief. He'd expected Elita to be guarded by Megatron himself. But with Soundwave...Primus knows what he was doing to her. Or had already done. Closing his eyes for a few precious seconds, Optimus collected himself and said with a sigh, "What is it that you want?"

"Iacon City," Megatron replied bluntly, seeing Prime's resolve slowly eroding under the weight of slow anguish. "Surrendered immediately and unconditionally to the Decepticons."

"Out of the question," Optimus asserted, expression hardening at the demand. "Iacon is- and always shall- belong to the Autobots. We _will _have Elita One returned, Megatron. Until then, this exchange is over." Without warning, the display winked out and was left blank once more. Megatron's remaining smirk was reflected in the glass, pointed and poisonous.

"And just what is our exalted leader grinning about now?" A painful screeching whine grated through Megatron's ears, shattering the veneer of self-satisfaction. Smirk instantly falling from his lips, the Decepticon leader spun his chair to face the main door to the Command Centre.

"If you hadn't so conveniently disappeared in the past few hours, you'd know why, Starscream," he answered the figure silhouetted in the light of the open doorway. Wayward spikes of brown hair and the crisp blue, white and red leather of a jacket hung over a sharp frame came into focus as the figure approached Megatron.

"While everyone _else _was wasting time in their sleep, _I_ was test flying the air force jets, if you must know," Starscream pointed out in his characteristic rasp, arms crossed defiantly.

"How long will it be before you fully grasp that I _do _have to know, and it is _your _duty to report to me-"

"As I recall, _Lord Megatron, _it was my designated duty to pilot the damned planes, not play babysitter to-" Starscream was cut off by a sudden burning near his ribcage, courtesy of the fusion cannon blast that had hit him square in the chest and threw him against the far wall. As he slid towards the floor with pained groans, Megatron towered over him.

"What did I say about interrupting me?" he threatened as Starscream prodded the burnt leather that barely shielded his blistering skin from destruction. "Just be thankful I had it set on low power," he said with a motion to the smoking cannon mounted on his wrist, laughing cruelly while Starscream glared daggers into his back.

"Just got this fixed..." he muttered with a venom-lace rasp, picking at the smouldering threads of his partially ruined jacket.

"Elita One is in Decepticon hands," Megatron revealed idly as Starscream sorted through the remnants of his dwindling dignity. A grunt of acknowledgement came from the SIC, followed by a gasp of pain when he tried to haul himself up. Thankfully, Megatron ignored the pathetic show. "Soon Optimus will either give into our demands or die trying to rescue her."

"And might I ask who was assigned to the Autobot?" Starscream queried, supporting himself on trembling legs with arms planted on a wall-length ledge. "If she _has _been assigned, that is..." he continued with a chancing tone, lips upturning into a mischievous smile.

"Oh, do get your mind out of the gutter for once, Starscream," Megatron reprimanded him, noticing the hopeful edge that crept into his voice. "Elita One's detainment and interrogation is being overseen by Soundwave-" A grumble of hatred emerged at the mention of the Communications Officer, "and she will be used as the first subject in our new experimental program."

"What? What program, why was I not informed of this?!" Starscream shrieked in his new-found ignorance, features twisted in surprise, heralding a rising tantrum from the Seeker. With excruciating casualness, Megatron inclined his head towards Starscream's fuming form and replied with an insulting air of obviousness and a light chuckle;  
"You never asked about it."

xx

An uncomfortable silence lingered over the Autobot Command Centre. Optimus stared blankly at the dark screen before him, that had mere seconds ago presented his mortal enemy to him, in all his gloating and glory. His retinue stood awkwardly at their own posts, Blaster throwing glances at his leader worriedly. When Optimus had ordered him to lock contact Megatron, he had thought the Prime had lost a measure of his sanity. Hacking into a regular Decepticon comm line was difficult and risky enough, but the leader's own personal signal? With all the firewalls, encryptions and viruses that were sure to be laced into it, the task was practically cyber-suicide.

However, when Blaster eventually tracked down Megatron's signal, it was stripped of all protection and guards. A completely open line, so clean that Blaster insisted on scanning it multiple times for hidden traps and viruses.

Now the whole room had lapsed into total muteness following the exchange between the Lord and the Prime. To Blaster's left, Prowl was growing more concerned with every passing second. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Optimus promptly spun around and faced the collection of officers, face as blank as the display behind him.

"Megatron's demands are unreasonable and will not be met. It is very unlikely that he will negotiate his terms. As such, Elita One's rescue lies within our hands." A solemn nod came from each person gathered.

"We know that she isn't being held in the main Decepticon base, and that Soundwave was appointed as her overseer," Prowl affirmed.

"But why would Megatron tell us all where he's keeping her?" Jazz wondered, a hand rubbing his chin in contemplation.

"Ah reckon it's ta mess with us," Ironhide growled, heavily muscled arms crossed over his chest. "Megs thinks we'll get ahr hopes up with knowing where she is and then make mistakes durin' the rescue."

"Or he could be bluffing," Blaster suggested, snapping out of the uncertainty that had froze over the team before. "But if Soundwave _does _have her, _I'll _be there to teach him a few lessons in chivalry," he said grimly, hitting his fist against his open palm.

"I'm glad to see you all so enthused," Optimus said with approval. "For now, we should focus our efforts on infiltrating the Decepticons, and seeing if Megatron was in fact telling the tr-"

"OPTIMUS!" A sudden yell sounded from the right wing of the Command Centre as a fuming Chromia burst into the room, Firestar and Moonracer following close behind similarly stone-faced. "How could you let our sister be taken by the Deceptiscum?!" She marched straight up to Prime, her fury practically etched into her features. Ironhide made a pained look and went to approach his partner.

"Uhm, Chromia, sweetie, we're doing all we can to-"

"Stay outta this, Ironhide," she warned as the Weapons Specialist tried to intervene, still waiting for an explanation from Optimus.

"I understand your distress fully, Chromia. It seems that there are Decepticons in hiding in our occupied cities," Optimus said, regret heavy in his voice. "I have no excuse for her capture. But we have a rough idea of where she is-"

"A _rough _idea?!" Chromia interrupted, still as enraged as she was in her entrance. "Prime, she could be being tortured or worse this very minute and you only have a _rough idea _ of where she is?!"

"She is in Soundwave's custody," Optimus stated, instantly sending Chromia and her sisters into a deathly state of shock.

"S-Soundwave...?" Moonracer murmured, eyes wide and wavering. "Primus help us..."

"I...I'm sorry, Optimus. For my anger," Chromia said hesitantly, eyes cast downwards. "If Soundwave is in charge of her, then this _is_ a grave situation."

"Indeed, Chromia," Optimus nodded earnestly. "But we _will _track her down and retrieve her unharmed, mark my words."

xx

Even with the warmth of the blanket surrounding Elita, the shivers did not pass. At some point she had relented to lying on the bare bed prepared for her, when the icy concrete beneath her refused to warm. There was no pillow, so Elita rested her head on her arm while the other tied her knees up to her chest. She must have looked so pathetic then, curled up and trembling like a helpless sparkling. But even though Soundwave certainly still had hidden eyes on her, she couldn't keep up the charade of defiance, of confidence, any longer. How much energy had she used up just attempting to kick Frenzy when they had her strapped into the transport helicopter? Or trying to push Rumble out of the open door? Her stomach groaned and cramped in displeasure, causing Elita to dig her fingers deeper into her skin to quiet the pain. Soundwave wouldn't starve her; yet at least. But he _would _make her suffer in her growing hunger. The sick bastard was probably watching her now with that cursed smirk, watching her resolve slowly crumble into dust.

Well, Elita wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

With considerable effort, the Autobot matriarch pulled herself into a sitting position, still cocooned in the stabilising warmth of the blanket. Her eyes grew steely and cold, sweeping over the dark corners and curtains of shadow. Her cell was long, stretching across the length of the whole room and placed at the very end of it, narrow bars reaching from a quarter way off the floor and into the ground, blocking her way. Elita touched a foot to the floor, then the other, putting light pressure on them as she struggled to stand. Even when she was upright and bipedal the world spun in a flash of vertigo. Two steps forwards and she almost collapsed, only saved from humiliation by grabbing onto one of the bars of her prison.

So weak...so hungry... so lonely...

Optimus would be sitting down to the evening meal right now. While he clasped jewelled silverware she held onto cold iron rods, a life-float in a sea of despair that was threatening to drown her.

Through the dull strands of her hair, she glared down the hallway that stretched out in front of her. The path to freedom. She had taken down legions of Decepticon warriors, shot down an Elite trine and even disabled an entire Gestalt.

Yet she couldn't pass through a single row of iron.

The absurdity of it all almost made her smile through her tears.


End file.
